


Twenty-eight

by ilien



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Gen, Retirement, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-23
Updated: 2017-08-23
Packaged: 2018-12-19 01:54:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11887446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ilien/pseuds/ilien
Summary: Georgi is retiring, and it occurred to him that some of his rinkmates won more gold in one year than he did in his entire career.The younger generation has something to say about that.





	Twenty-eight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Eveth_21](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eveth_21/gifts).



> A Georgi-centric ficlet for [Eveth_21](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Eveth_21) who brilliantly suggested that Georgi probably practically raised all the younger generation of Yakov’s skaters.
> 
> For the purposes of this fic, I completely ignored a lot of real-life stuff such as competition schedules and the relative importance of medals. Sorry.

“Oi, asshole!” Plisetsky’s never been the politest person in the universe, and Gosha’s long since stopped being annoyed with it. “What’s up?”

“Nothing.” Gosha’s drunk. He knows he is. He probably shouldn’t have drunk so much with his non-existing tolerance, but he can’t bring himself to care. He’s miserable.

“It’s your party, Popovich. Why the fuck are you crying in the corner?”

He’s not crying. “It’s my retirement party, Plisetsky, I’m allowed cry all I like,” he says, anyway.

“An hour ago someone said that it’s ‘a blessing’ to be able to retire on his own terms,” Yuri reminds him.

Yeah. An hour ago Gosha was significantly less drunk.

“Do you know that in one year in Seniors you won more gold than I did in a lifetime?” he asks Plisetsky. “I think I’m allowed to be miserable.”

“You’re a fucking idiot,” Plisetsky tells him.

Georgi doesn’t argue with that. “That’s the general understanding, yes.”

When Plisetsky doesn’t reply, Georgi offers an explanation. It seems logical in his head. “This year, I lost because I was heartbroken.”

“Anya’s a bitch,” Plisetsky says, in an uncharacteristic show of compassion.

“She’s a perfect woman,” Gosha corrects him. “But that’s not even the point. The point is, it was one year. One! What happened to the rest of my career?! Like, say, 2014. I’d just met Anya, one might think I’d be as inspired as Vitya was this season, no? I came in fifth at GPF. Or 2011. I hadn’t even met Anya yet, but still didn’t make the podium. Or 2015, now that was one disaster of a year; I didn’t even get to GPF. No wonder I don’t need two hands to count my gold medals.”

Plisetsky looks at him like he grew a second head. Now, that would be helpful, Gosha’s drunk brain supplies. Two heads are better than one.

“What?” he asks when Yura wouldn’t stop staring. “What did I say?”

“Baabaaa!” Plisetsky yells instead of answering. “What happened in 2014?”

“My Senior debut,” Mila shouts across the room.

“And your own Junior,” adds Otabek, appearing out of nowhere behind Yura’s back.

“Yes, exactly,” Yura says. “Do you remember that bitch Ivanchenko?" he asks Georgi, "She was Yakov’s assistant that year. She always yelled at us and never knew how to explain what exactly it was that we did wrong. Made Mila cry, like, five times a day.”

Gosha nods and doesn’t comment on how there’s at least one more person Ivanchenko brought to tears on regular basis; that person might punch him in the face for a reminiscence like that.

“So, who was supposed to be Yakov’s stand-in both for me and Mila that year while Yakov was babysitting his beloved champion?”

‘That bitch’ Ivanchenko, right. Georgi remembers how angry he was when he found out that the competition schedule made it impossible for Yakov to be there for all four of them, and that he chose Victor and Georgi over the debutants. Gosha spent an hour meditating on their schedules and came up with a plan where he’d replace Ivanchenko with Yura before his own SP and Victor would just barely manage to be there for Mila after he’d be done with his. There was no way they’d let Ivanchenko ruin both debuts.

“You were both a coach and a skater long before Victor stole the idea,” Mila comments, approaching them and handing Gosha a glass of—apple juice?..

“That’s not fair,” Georgi objects. “Victor was there, too, and he didn’t lose.”

“Right,” Yura says. “Because Mila’s SP ending ten minutes before you had to skate your own and mine starting a good hour after Victor was done with his is totally the same thing.”

Gosha remembers that. Running from one rink to the other was pretty much all the warm-up he could manage.

“Okay then, what else was there?” Plisetsky continues. “2011?”

“My Junior debut,” Mila says. “I messed up my SP the day before your free skate, and cried in your room until I fell asleep. You slept on the floor because there was only one bed.”

Before Gosha can object that that was of no consequence, Plisetsky continues, ”2015. That’s mine. My mother was supposed to take me to Moscow for Rostelecom and then forgot about it.” Yuri’s mother ‘forgot’ a lot of things until she finally lost custody. “You couldn’t get me on the train without her permit, which she wouldn’t sign, so you got your car and drove me all the way from St.Petersburg. I slept most of the way. I’m guessing you didn’t. But that’s totally not why you messed up your jumps the next day, right?”

Of that, Georgi mostly remembers fearing that Yura’s mother might accuse him of kidnapping the kid. But she must have forgotten to do that, too.

“Also, 2012, you missed your plane to Canada because Mum was drunk and you had to take me to my doctor’s appointment. You got there ten hours later than you were supposed to, barely slept, but still got bronze.”

“2013, Semyonov quit and Ivanchenko wasn’t there yet, so you went to NHK with me even though you had Skate America less than a week later,” says Mila.

“The same year I pretty much lived at your place because my mum kind of forgot I existed, and you cooked dinner every day and drove me to school before your practice,” Yuri offers.

“2014, you spent the entire off-season explaining me all the things Ivanchenko didn’t know how to explain,” Mila supplies.

“You had a lot of experience with that,” Otabek chimes in. “You did that in summer camp, too. Ivanchenko was the official trainer and you were the one who actually taught us after she’d go home, because we were all terrified of her.” That was only one year, and Georgi was supposed to be helping there anyway, wasn’t he? Gosha isn't sure what they're getting at. Is that him being drunk or them not making any sense?

“So, baba, how many golds have you won since 2011?” Plisetsky demands.

“Two Junior GPFs, three Junior and three Senior Nationals, two Europeans and the senior Worlds this year,” Mila reports, “that’s apart from the qualifiers.”

“That’s what, eleven? I’ve got eight. I’ll catch up.”

“Five,” Otabek says, “A Junior GPF, three Nationals, and this year’s Four Continents.”

“Hey, lovebirds,” Plisetsky yells at the general direction of Nikiforov and Katsuki, “How many golds do you have between you? Including Juniors, but not qualifiers?”

“Eighteen!” Nikiforov answers without hesitation.

“We beat them by ten,” Plisetsky tells him.

Georgi absolutely doesn’t cry in his apple juice.

**Author's Note:**

> We all know that in this universe Georgi's going to make history as the coach who raised more gold medallists than anyone else in the entire history of figure skating, and that's not counting Yuri, Mila and Otabek.
> 
> This fic has not been betaed; if you notice any mistakes or typos, please, let me know.


End file.
